Like a Comet Pulled from Orbit
by Baby Denim Eyes
Summary: AU. It was as if, by some gravitational pull, that they were drawn together after so many years of being apart.


**Hello there, my name is **_**Four Rights and a Square,**_** and I'm your authoress for this story, **_**Like a Comet Pulled from Orbit.**_

**Pardon my fangirling: GLEE STARTS IN 5 DAYS! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPP PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!**

**Take care of yourselves, read, review, and just enjoy the story. Please, go to my profile to follow me on Tumblr. I blog about everything Avengers, Glee, Sherlock, Doctor Who, you name it, I like it.**

**Disclaimer: The story **_**Like a Comet Pulled from Orbit**_** is written solely by the fanfiction authoress **_**Four Rights and a Square. **_**She is the owner of the plotline, and many other things of which she refuses to say because she does not wish to continue typing this disclaimer. However, the authoress does not own any of the **_**Glee **_**characters- she simply loves roleplaying Ryan Murphy's creations. **

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_Like a comet pulled from orbit_

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**LIKE A COMET PULLED FROM ORBIT: ONESHOT-**

The day started off normally as every other one had. He went to school, did his daily dumpster dives, slushied a few kids, the usual. When he entered Glee, the real problem came up.

The whole club was standing in front of her, waving their hands in her eyes.

"I think she's comatose," Artie exclaimed as he poked her leg.

"Is she blind?" Santana looked like she really didn't care.

"What's going on?" He asked, unsure whether or not to care a ton or care just a little.

Mr. Schuester looked concerned. "Hey," He spoke softly. "What's the matter?"

Her head moved slightly, just fixing her gaze on the teacher. "Puck," She murmured.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"She wants to talk to you." Mr. Schue explained, simply raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes were moving quickly around the room, trying her hardest not to stare at nothing in particular.

"We'll leave you two in peace," Santana smirked as Mr. Schue urged the glee club out of the choir room.

He shifted uncomfortably, standing in front of the girl. "Uh, MILF?" He looked down at her. "Can I, you know, sit?"

Her eyes looked up to meet his. "Of course," She said quietly. "Please."

The chair's legs scraped the floor as he sat. "So, what do you want to-"

"I saw her."

He froze. "What do you mean, you saw her?"

She gave him a pointed look. "I saw _her._ With Shelby."

_Oh._ That _her_.

Beth.

God, he had wanted so much to keep that little baby girl that was his own. He'd never even gotten the chance to hold her.

He felt his walls go up. "So?"

"_**SO?**_" She hissed venomously. "I saw my daughter for the first time in over a year, and all you have to say is _**SO? **_I can't believe you!"

"Our." He said quietly, ignoring her ranting.

She stopped. "What?"

"Our. _Our_ daughter. Yours and mine. Ours." The words slipped from his mouth, and he was just as sure that she was going to freak out on him like she had before. But her lips weren't moving, and she stared hard at the ground.

"Look," He began, he really was no good at this, "You may be acting differently because you just want to forget about her, you know, with Finn and stuff, and have your old life back, but if you really think about it, would you honestly change everything?" His once-confident voice began to falter, "And it's times like this I _**know **_you can't forget her. Ever.

"Your life will never be the same again. The choices you once had to make, the lifestyle decisions that were once so important to you, they're all different now. If you try to go back and change all of them, you'll lose whatever you've got now that you actually like." He paused, running a hand through his thick mohawk. "So, don't try to change anything, okay?"

She finally looked up at him, and he was surprised to see her pretty hazel eyes glistening with lots of unshed tears. "Thanks," She whispered in his ear as she reached forward and hugged him.

"You're welcome." He said, taking in the last whiff of her mango-smelling hair.

"What happened to us?" She mumbled into his shoulder blade, her face buried into his plain white t-shirt.

"What do you mean?" He heard himself ask, pulling away from her.

"What happened to what we had? While I was pregnant?" Her eyes met his, and he fought the urge to cry.

"I don't know." He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe it has to do with the fact that you're back with Finn again." His voice came out rather bitter, something he hadn't intended to do.

Her eyes flashed. "Don't start."

He couldn't hold it in. "Finn's my bro, babe. Seriously. If we weren't such assholes to each other, we might actually be real friends again. But the fact that you're trying to change everything with him and make everything like it was isn't the best way to go about fixing your life. You and I both know that he only belongs with one person, and that person happens to be Berry. Hell, I think Santana even understands that.

"God put us on Earth already having a plan for our futures, and if you go and try to change that, well, then he'll roll his eyes and turn it around to bite you in the ass. That's why karma sucks. I'm just saying, don't ruin Finn's future because you're trying to fix your own. He's one of those guys you look at in the yearbook in thirty years and think, "Damn, what happened to him?" and then you find out he's some huge football star or whatever shitty thing he's accomplished.

"Me, on the other hand, I'm gonna be here until the day I die. I know that. Plus, I don't really like the idea of college other than the fact that there's a lot of hot, single woman there and tons of parties." He sighed finally, ending his spiel. "Find someone else to love. 'Cause Finn's not your guy."

He looked back at her, surprised to see her eyes glistening with tears. "You're right." She took out her phone, and he looked over her shoulder as she typed a single message.

**To: Finn**

**I'm sorry I've haven't seen the light until now. Please, go live your life the way you want it to be, not how I want your life to be. I'm not your future. I'm not _her_.**

**3**

He gave a proud smirk. "Bump it." He said, holding out his fist.

She laughed half-heartedly, and fist-bumped him. Then she stared at him, and then flung herself at him.

He caught her easily, secretly rejoicing in the fact that he could just hold her. "I love you." He whispered quietly.

She jerked away, her eyes meeting his. "What did you say?" Her eyes were searching his face.

"Nothing." He replied quickly, avoiding her eyes. "Absolutely nothing at all."

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me."

"I don't think I will. You've got such a big mouth." He chuckled mildly at her indignant expression.

Together they stood up, heading for the door, he in front of her.

"I do love you too, you know." She said softly, causing him to turn back and look at her.

From the soft look in her eyes, he could tell she was telling the truth. To others, she was a liar, which was true. But never to him.

He flashed her a weak smile, wanting so much to keep hiding the rest of his pain like he had learned from her. "Not as much as I love you, babe."

"Can I ask you a favor… or two?" She said suddenly, staring at the floor in thought.

He shrugged, watching her with curiosity brimming in his eyes. "I guess so."

Suddenly, she stepped forward very close to him, her eyes searching his. "I want you to watch her. I doubt I'll ever see her again. Because I'm not going to look for her anymore. Like I used to. She'll be safer under your protection. You're her dad."

He nodded. _Always._ "And the last favor?"

There was a pregnant pause, and then she opened her mouth. "I want you to kiss me. Before we go our separate ways." She whispered.

He wasted no time in capturing her lips with his, gently pressing them together. The kiss was soft and sweet, and without a doubt the most beautiful one he'd ever had. Her lips tasted like mango, a taste he was not used to (mostly watermelon) but thoroughly enjoyed.

When they broke away, she wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his chest. It was then he felt the wetness dripping onto his shirt. "Are you _crying?_" He asked her, completely surprised as he pulled her away slightly to get a better look at her face.

She sniffed, rubbing her nose with her hand. "Damn it," She moaned, angry with herself. "I promised myself I wouldn't let my emotions show."

"Shh," He cooed, pulling her back into his embrace. "It's okay. Just cry." She did, and he was perfectly happy just to hold her.

Little did they know someone else had captured their beautiful moment with a picture.

* * *

A few weeks before graduation, Santana fished out her phone from her pocket when it rang. "You were right," She said into the device.

"I always am," Came a rather cocky voice from the other end.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Poofy Gabor. Don't make me come over there and cut off all your dangly locks of your stupid hair."

She heard an indignant gasp on the other side of the phone, and she began to flip through her photos. When she came to the one she wanted, she said, "I'm going to send it to them now. It's almost time, and besides, I can't stand all this eye-fucking anymore."

"Fine. Just make sure they're happy. That's Elphaba Johnson's orders."

"Can we please stop using codenames? I don't even know what the hell mine even is!"

"I think yours is something along the lines of-"

"Whatever, I don't care to know," She snapped. "I'm sending it now, so you just go back to composing or practicing or doing whatever it is you do and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too." Santana answered, smiling briefly before clicking off. She gave the tiniest of sweet smiles at the picture before selecting two familiar names from her contacts and sending the picture.

* * *

They hung them up, in very different places. But the photo was engraved in one place forever: their hearts.

* * *

His still remains in the one place it always has since the day Santana sent it to him. He remembered being more shocked than he ever had been in his entire life. Although his sock drawer isn't the most convenient and nice-smelling of his hiding places, it's one of the best ones.

Whenever he's feeling lonely, he just spends time looking at her face, remembering what it felt like to hold her.

* * *

Hers was recently moved a few days after her move to her new apartment in Columbus. It now is taped to her vanity, and when she looks in the mirror while putting on her makeup it always catches her eye, just as he had done all those years ago.

Santana, of all people, had sent this memorable photo to her. But _why?_

Santana's answer had been brief. "She wanted to see you guys happy again," was what she said. _Who?_

But as she looked at the picture, she realized she didn't really care who sent it. She had something to remember him by.

* * *

Now, in 2017, WMHS had decided to have an alumni party, and this was the way to do it- by having the old New Directions perform.

She stepped into the gymnasium the same time he did, only from the opposite entrance. They chatted with old friends and classmates until eventually, something got the better of them. As if by some gravitational pull, they found themselves longing to go towards the center of the basketball court where people danced to old classics- Journey, MJ, the usual.

He looked up, his eyes landing on a young female standing a few feet away.

She looked up, her eyes landing on a young male standing a few feet away.

"Quinn," He whispered.

"Puck," She breathed.

* * *

_As it passes the sun_

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the end.

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**I think this is the most line breaks I've ever used... Well, anyways, thanks for reading!**


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